


Your Secrets, Freely Given

by PFDiva



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Character, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cunnilingus, DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE AMOUNT OF GORE OKAY, F/M, Fantasizing, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spider eggs, You Have Been Warned, asexual character having sex, elias evading questions by giving jon fantasies, mind control bs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PFDiva/pseuds/PFDiva
Summary: Post-coma, Elias tries to help Jon.  Jon doesn't appreciate it.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	Your Secrets, Freely Given

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the lovely enablers in the Simp-bot server for reminding me this existed.

"Come with me, Jon," says Elias, grabbing Jon by the upper arm and walking him away from the archives.

"What?" Jon demands, offended by the implication that he will just do what Elias says. He still has some cases for follow-up in one hand, and a mug, empty but for an old tea bag, in the other. In spite of himself, he is indeed walking along with Elias. As soon as he realizes it, he stops. "No!"

Elias keeps going and, to Jon's consternation, he isn't strong enough to break Elias's grip. Digging in his heels gets him inelegantly yanked forward so that he stumbles. He nearly bashes his face on a doorway once or twice. Add to it the fact that Elias's fingers are wrapped painfully tight around his arm, nigh unto bruising him, and Jon is absolutely incensed. He is almost furious enough to crumple into a heap of dead weight to get Elias to let go.

Unfortunately for his resolve, they've just begun ascending the stairs, and even Jon isn't willing to hurt himself for spite.

In short order, they've arrived in Elias's office, and he deposits Jon in the center of the room, shutting the door. When he turns back to Jon, there is something ice cold and furious in him. Jon isn't quite certain what he's done to earn it, but he squares his shoulders and glares back.

"Well, I'm here. Now what do you want? You've manhandled me and interrupted my work, and for what? A _chat?_ ...what are you doing?"

While Jon has been berating Elias, Elias has been meticulously removing his watch, setting it in his left vest pocket. Then he unbuttons the cuff of his left sleeve, neatly folding it up over his elbow. He's just finished folding up the right one when Jon can't ignore the oddity of his behavior anymore.

Elias looks up from what he's doing, that fury still in his face, even though his voice is calm and almost pleasant, "I was wondering when you were going to notice. I wouldn't worry too much, if I were you. It will just be more concerning."

That angers Jon. Elias is always like this, and Jon isn't putting up with it anymore. And he has the means to make Elias stop. He doesn't know how he does it, exactly, but he can see Elias respond to it when he adds force and _intent_ to his question, " **What are you about to do?** "

Elias pauses, his eyes falling to half-mast, his mouth dropping open to inhale a shaky breath. Then he shakes himself to look at Jon, "You _are_ getting rather good at that, aren't you? But I don't think so."

Jon is suddenly, viscerally, hit with the mental image of Martin, flushed and completely naked, one hand clamped between his own teeth, the other clawing at nothing. Obviously getting fucked. By whom is impossible to tell. And the _noises_ he makes. A rhythmic high whimper, interspersed with deep, desperate gulps of air. The image blinks, and Martin cries out, his back arching, head grinding back as he tips over the edge.

Jon is distantly aware of Elias removing the files and mug from his suddenly nerveless fingers. He's aware of things in the office moving, of being herded into somewhere different, of Elias saying _something_ , but the mental image of Martin coming takes up the fullness of his attention. It's an occasional passing thought, a curiosity, but even a sexual fantasy wouldn't have the vividness, the clarity that this has, and it makes Jon weak in the knees.

Jon comes back to himself because his feet are cold. He suddenly realizes that he is in a small room with his shirt off, Elias kneeling at his feet to remove his shoes and socks. It's...not an unappealing sight. Elias isn't Jon's type, but he's also not an ugly man. It doesn't hurt that there is something that viscerally grabs him about the sight of any man, really, but this one in particular, bowed before him.

Then it occurs to Jon that he is half-naked in a strange place with a murderer he doesn't trust.

He attempts to twist his foot free of Elias's grip, but all he does is wrench his knee. Elias's grip is just as strong on his ankle as it was on his arm.

"No--let go!"

With his grip on Jon's ankle, Elias lifts Jon's foot higher, off-balancing him. The room is _tiny_ , so Jon immediately falls into a wall, then slides down onto the bed beneath it.

" **What are you doing?** " Jon demands, with all the force of his panic behind it. He can see Elias shiver, and then he gets slammed with another mental image.

This one is of Georgie, sweating and flushed with effort over him. He can hear the faint buzz of the vibrator in her strap-on, can feel the ropes binding his wrists to her bedframe, and her hands on his thighs, holding them wide for her to fuck him. Or, at this moment, for her to grind against the vibrator in order to chase her own orgasm, shifting the strap-on inside him so that it keeps grinding against his prostate.

He can feel the building tension in his own body, the desperate ache for pleasure that he knows will not be sated, cannot be sated until Georgie has found her peak first. (Jon will lose interest if he comes first, and he doesn't want to lose interest. He wants to watch the furrow develop between her brows, wants to watch the way her dark skin glistens with sweat and flushes with exertion.)

Distantly, Jon can feel his pants and underwear being removed, can hear Elias's distant voice speaking, can feel himself being positioned on the thin, narrow bed, but as before, he is consumed by this vision. In it, Georgie's breast comes close enough for Jon to catch in his teeth and suckle at hard, causing Georgie to let out a strangled shriek of surprise before coming with a guttural moan that he'd thought he'd forgotten.

When he comes back to himself, it is because he is _in pain._ Elias is at his feet, tying his ankles to the foot of the bed. With his arms lashed to each other and secured over his head, this means that Jon is stretched uncomfortably across the length of the bed. Naked and, embarrassingly, hard.

Jon immediately struggles and thrashes. Elias only responds by tightening the ropes, farther and farther until Jon's body _groans_ under the pressure and he can't move at all.

"Be still," Elias gently chides, walking towards the head of the bed and disappearing out of Jon's sight.

"You're _hurting_ me!" Jon shouts in frustrated reply.

Elias returns with what looks like a wickedly sharp knife. He almost looks sad. "Not yet, I'm afraid."

Before Jon can open his mouth to ask, he is swarmed with another erotic vision. In this one, he is on his knees in the stacks, choking on Tim's dick, strong fingers roughly tangled in his hair and still managing to occasionally knock his head into the wall behind him. It's probably intentional. Jon's ashamed of how much that excites him. He knows he deserves it, deserves any pain Tim wants to give him. He's desperate for the absolution his pain will give him.

And Tim is quite willing to deliver.

"All the bullshit comes out of your mouth and you can't even take a cock," Tim mutters, still fucking Jon's face, "No wonder you can't tell Martin wants you, even though I'm right here and actually nice to him, you fucking prick…"

Jon feels his face flush because Tim's right, of course he is. But the insult makes him want to prove himself, and he shifts forward, grabbing Tim by the hips and taking a deep breath to relax his throat so that his nose meets Tim's stomach. Over his head, Tim makes a guttural groan. Distantly, Jon can feel his skin parting and being peeled open. Tim vengefully fucks his head back into the wall, painfully knocking it, and Jon is back in this moment.

"Did I say you could put your fucking hands on me?"

Jon can't shake his head, because Tim is fucking his face again, forcing his cock down Jon's throat again and again, now that he knows Jon can take it. He's indifferent to Jon's pleasure, his ability to breathe, or even the fact that Jon's been on his knees so long, he can't feel his feet anymore. It's horrifying how good it is, and tears are streaming down Jon's face, even as he wishes he could beg for more.

Tim shoves his dick down Jon's throat and keeps it there when he comes. Jon can't taste anything, but he can feel the hot throb of Tim in his throat, the fingers twisted in his hair hard enough to almost pull it out, and his own cock _aches_ with desire.

When Jon comes back to himself, it is to the nauseating sight of Elias, sitting on his thighs and wrist-deep in the red, red coils of Jon's intestines, methodically sorting through them. The sight is so shocking that Jon doesn't immediately register how much pain he's not feeling, or the fact that he really shouldn't be alive with his body peeled open like this.

"I'm surprised," Elias comments, carefully scrutinizing a dark spot before pinching it off and throwing it aside. Jon has no idea what that was, and it makes a disgusting splat noise as it joins a disturbingly large pile on the floor. "In most peoples' fantasies, Tim is _nice_."

Jon tries to flinch. Remembers that he is tied down hard enough to hurt. He growls, " _You_ put the images in my head, you can't pretend to be surprised by them!"

Elias's hands make a slick noise like lube on a cock as he pulls Jon's intestines through them. Jon is briefly certain he's going to be sick. Elias takes one hand out of Jon's guts to wrap it around his cock. Jon is _impossibly_ hard, and Elias's hand feels good, strong and slick with Jon's blood. Jon whimpers. He can't help but try and buck into the touch. His lack of control is so embarrassing. The nausea fades, replaced by humiliation, and he crushes his eyes shut, pressing his face into his arm. He can feel Elias watching him.

"I certainly didn't put those images into your head. I merely connected the people to the desire. Arousal's a natural painkiller, after all."

"Fuck you," Jon bites out, before he thinks about it, before he can filter himself. He is immediately assaulted by the very mundane fantasy of kneeling under Elias's desk, worshipping his cock while he says awful things in a sweet voice. The worst part is that Jon has already experienced Elias forcing him to have visions of sex. This one came from his own mind.

"You are doing very well," Elias murmurs, his hands still making that slick, erotic noise through Jon's guts before pausing to flick another sickly splat into the pile, "You survived, in spite of the end and the spider's attempts at you."

"Why are you doing this to me?" asks Jon. His voice wobbles humiliatingly, and his tears wet his face, his arm, and the pillow below him.

"I want to help you, Jon. That's all I ever want."

"How is this **helping** me?!" Jon's desperate demand is loud and hoarse and he hates that his tears make his voice more like a wail than an accusation.

"Do you know how many spiders the average person swallows in a year?" Jon does not, but he knows that stomach acid can kill a spider. A normal one, at least. Jon lifts his face to watch Elias detach another dark spot from the red of his intestines and flick it aside. He's going to be sick.

Before Jon can surrender to his nausea, he falls into another vision. He doesn't want to think about what has attached itself to his internal organs, or what it's trying to do to his body. He clings to the vision with both metaphorical hands.

In it, a strangely familiar woman is sprawled across his desk, her legs draped over his shoulders, the taste of her strong in his mouth. She laughs and teases and he can't quite catch the words, but the cadence makes his chest ache with nostalgia.

She pulls on his hair when he falters, but it's playful rather than punishing, and her voice climbs like sweet ecstasy, a beautiful, warbling waver that makes Jon all the more eager to please her. One last time.

Jon comes back to himself feeling faintly homesick, though he's certainly never missed his childhood home. He is curled around Elias, and they are both suspiciously clean. His hair curls damply against his skin, and he can't help but wonder how long he was subsumed by that so-realistic fantasy.

"I don't trust you," he tells Elias's hip as a soothing hand slowly strokes up and down his back. It feels good, touching him precisely where he likes to be touched, precisely how he likes to be touched. It makes his skin prickle with it.

"More's the pity," Elias hums, his fingertips teasing the spot at the back of Jon's neck that makes him shudder and melt. "Because I only want to improve you. Make you better." His fingers shift across Jon's back, under the curve of his shoulderblades, down his spine. It's incredible. It's awful. Jon has to fight to keep himself from arching into the touches, wanton and moaning.

After a few moments, they stop, and Elias shifts as if to leave. He doesn't even think about it when he scrabbles at Elias, who only pauses a moment.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

And he knows, with sudden clarity, that if he wants satisfaction for the ache between his thighs, for the tingling of his skin, he will have to ask for it. It is the most difficult thing he could ever put to words, and he takes too long. Elias resumes motion, carefully peeling away Jon's grasping hands.

"Don't go."

Elias stays.


End file.
